The Heart of Man
by I'm Making Your Love
Summary: A parable about a farmer and a beggar.


**A/N:** Hey everyone, this is just a parable I wrote after reading a few from the Bible. It's nothing major, but I hope you enjoy. It teaches several morals in itself, or it could teach just one. It's basically how you perceive it that decided what exactly it teaches you. Thank you.

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**The Heart of Man

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There once was a farmer who lived by himself in a small hut on a prosperous field. Every season he would sow his seeds, and every day he would nurture them, and every year they would grow into a vast assortment of crops on which he made his living by.

One year a famine came upon his land; his crops were wiped out, his seeds were withered and dry, and he had no food or water. His hut fell into pieces slowly, for it was made with wood and there were no longer any trees left around him to repair it, and so soon he lost his home as well.

He came upon a village and begged the villagers to help him, to spare him a silver coin or even a fresh pair of garments, but every person he passed merely pushed him away with disgust.

The farmer had lost hope, and collapsed in the street, waiting for his thirst and starvation to take him, when a lowly beggar came upon him. The beggar was a gnarled, hideous old man, his face distorted in monstrous angles and his body crooked, to the point where even the dying farmer pitied him and wondered how he could even walk in his state.

The beggar asked not his name, nor where he was from, nor did he speak a word, but instead brought the farmer water and helped him sip it slowly. The beggar then helped him up, though his body did tremble beneath the weight, and helped him slowly to a stable.

The stable was in extremely poor condition, to the point where one would think it an old shack, and this was where the beggar obviously lived. Inside, the atmosphere was humid and moldy, and the floor covered in filth.

There was only one bit of furniture: a scrap of wood where the beggar put the farmer as though it were a stool. He brought the farmer fresh bread, salted meat, and more water. The beggar watched the farmer eat, as he had not taken any food or water for himself, and there was still silence among them.

When the farmer was done, he started to speak, but the beggar only said, "Rest now, and we will talk later of many things, weary neighbor." And the farmer did as he told.

Over the months, the famine passed and the farmer returned to his home, rebuilt his hut, and once again fell back into his routine of growing crops. He kept a close friendship with the beggar who had helped him, and when he tried to offer him half his belongings, the beggar denied politely. So, instead, whenever he visited, the farmer treated him to a meal and clean clothes, and their friendship grew ever stronger.

Things only got better as the farmer's crops were the most prosperous that year than they had ever been, and he started a trade, and soon was overflowing with riches. He bought a huge house, bought cattle and seeds, and indulged himself in feasts, wine, and women. All the while his friendship with the beggar never faltered.

As the farmer's business hit top notch, he was beginning to become noticed by other wealthy men, and when they started talking to him, he eagerly invited them over for extensive feasts and pricey suppers.

At one such feast the beggar came to visit, and when he asked the servants to lead him to the farmer, they did so.

When the beggar entered the main room, everything stopped and went silent, and all eyes rested on the gnarled, poor man.

One of the wealthy men sneered in disgust, saying, "Who is this, that comes to your door so late in the evening, farmer? It is a beggar! I think I am going to vomit! Look how hideous he is!" This brought on guffaws of laughter from the other wealthy mean, but the farmer remained silent, staring into the equally quiet beggar's eyes.

Another wealthy man said, "Look at those clothes! They aren't fit for people, he is a beast!" And this also brought on laughing, but again, the farmer and beggar remained quiet as ever.

Minutes passed as the men mocked him, but after a while, the beggar spoke, "Hear me, won't you? Will you not hear a beggar, men who are so prodigal and full of themselves and who dwell in their riches? Will you not listen to a man such as myself?"

This only caused the wealthy mean to laugh harder, and soon the entire room joined them, except for the farmer.

Noticing his silence, the first wealthy man said to the him, "Farmer, do you know this man?"

A fear grew in the farmer which soon turned into a strong feeling of shame that he was a friend with a man of such monstrosity and low class, and he quickly denied, "No, I do not. What business would I have with a filthy beggar?" And laughter was present once again around the room, this time including the farmer.

Soon, they all began throwing things at the beggar, so much to the point where he was forced to leave.

Two weeks passed, and every day the beggar would visit, and every day the farmer would deny him. Soon the farmer spent all his riches, and relied on his crops more than ever.

The famine that had struck before returned, and all of the farmer's crops were dead, and his house fell apart, and he had no more food or water. He wept, and went about back into the village, and begged everyone that passed to help him, but each person pushed him away in disgust. He went unto the homes of his wealthy kinsmen, but they merely said, "Who are you? We do not do business with beggars, farmer, be gone!" and they laughed at him and struck him with their feet, so that he fled.

The farmer had lost hope, and collapsed in the street, waiting for his thirst and starvation to take him again, when suddenly the beggar came to him.

Neither spoke a word, but the gnarled man brought the farmer water and helped him sip it slowly. The beggar then helped him up, though his body did tremble beneath the weight, and helped him slowly down the street.

The farmer started toward the stable again, but the beggar turned him in a different direction and walked past it. He led him out of the village, down a beaten path and to a stream just on the edge of a rich forest.

He watched the farmer eat and drink, not taking any for himself, but this time neither spoke.

When the farmer finished, he leaned over the stream and washed his face thoroughly of the dirt, and when he lifted himself he felt a towel being offered to him. Wiping off his face and opening his eyes, he beheld a sight so great to him, he began to weep.

All around him, where once was a forest, was now a vast city, full of tall, pearl-white buildings and huge arches at every corner; the streets were littered with gold, and many men, women and children were playing about, and no one was starved or thirsting. Everything was white, with either silver or gold lining, and at one end stood a massive castle of white marble and slate, and a city so great was sure to be the wealthiest place he had ever heard of.

The beggar then whipped off his cloak and revealed himself, but instead of there being a gnarled, old, ugly peasant, there was a tall, royally-clad young man, with the most beautiful face the farmer has ever seen.

He fell to his knees, still weeping, and the young man helped him up, saying, "Do not weep, weary neighbor, rest yourself and we will talk of many things."

"Where are we? Who are you? What's going on?" The farmer had many questions, but the young man just continued to sooth him until he calmed.

Then he spoke, "Behold, this is my kingdom, and I am its king. I brought you here so that no more will you waste what you have, but forever will you live in the happiness of my home."

The farmer looked at him a long time before he said, "Why do you look different?" And the king replied, "In my kingdom, no more will we see the bodies of our flesh, but instead the bodies of our souls, and in my kingdom, appearances are solely based on the heart of man, instead of the flesh."

"But you are ugly! A hideous beggar!" The farmer protested.

"Maybe so, but ponder this, my weary neighbor. Be it better to be beautiful in the flesh and hideous in the heart, or to be hideous in the flesh and beautiful to the heart? You have denied yourself my love and friendship, and I have given you what little was mine to give, and yet you hate me for my appearance. Your heart has withered, friend."

"What do you mean?!"

The young king merely glanced at the stream, which was surprisingly still there, and out of reflex, the farmer did as well.

There in the water where their reflections were, he saw the young king's reflection as a gnarled, hideous, monstrosity of a man, just as the farmer thought it should be.

But then, at close speculation, he realized there was a beautiful young man next to the poor one, and he learned the harsh truth.

The farmer screamed in grief, falling to his knees and clutching at his face, tearing at the skin and shouting louder as the blood seeped through his fingers.

The young king only shook his head sadly, and whispered beneath the blood-curdling screams of his friend, "Remember, weary neighbor, that the flesh is a shell of what you really are. Though the body may you harbor for a hundred years, your soul, which is black and rotting, you will harbor for eternity."


End file.
